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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29062125">Potential Partner</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ph0ques/pseuds/ph0ques'>ph0ques</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Horny One, Alcohol, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Domestic Fluff, Hanamaki Takahiro is a Little Shit, Hand &amp; Finger Kink, I Am So Sorry Hanamaki, M/M, Matsukawa Has Nice Hands, Matsukawa Issei in Love, Morning Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, PLS IM CRYING, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Relationship, Romantic Friendship, Shameless Smut, Smut, and lots of swearing, bc these two are shameless about everything, but also they knew full well, just mentions of it, lmao i dont care enough i stayed up too long, possibly ??, uhhh, unestablished relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:20:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,133</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29062125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ph0ques/pseuds/ph0ques</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanamaki blinks up at him, opening his mouth before just closing it, grasping at his arms like a lifeline. Quietly, so no one can hear him, as if the loud ass bass reverberating through the floors isn’t already drowning them out, he says, “were they messing with me?” because it kinda makes sense. He’s pretty sure this entire family has some sort of evil streak hidden by their good-looks and deceptively helpful demeanors. All the dragging around and narrowly missing each other seems a little too coordinated now that he has Issei in his clutches.</p>
<p>“Mhm. It's a family tradition. That or the complete and utter destruction of your person. Very sexy of us.” Issei nods, hair bouncing, ignoring the fact that Hanamaki has started groping his bicep. “Screening potential life partners is very important.”</p>
<p>“You’re very sexy.”</p>
<p>“I know.” He’s grinning. That motherfucker. He’s hot. And big. His eyes drop down for what he believes is a split second. Processing this entire conversation is a bitch. He’s pretty sure he’s been told something important.  </p>
<p>“Fuck you. Am I your potential life partner?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” </p>
<p>“Oh, in that case, fuck me.”</p>
<p>“I’m gonna make fun of you so hard when you’re sober.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Potential Partner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>okay, so, sorry for any inconsistencies.<br/>im prolly gonna make two more parts to this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hanamaki wakes up one great, terribly early morning, with a sudden realization. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t hit him right at first, no. Hanamaki has the time to sit up from the middle of his bed and untangle himself from the mix of sheets and blankets keeping him there. There’s time to notice the lack of a large, warm body beside him. The sound of feet pattering around. Blurry eyes keeping him from really seeing anything. And because he’s still sleepy, his mind barely allows more time after that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He rubs at his eyes as he stumbles out of bed, dragging his feet further into the flat. There isn’t a single thought in his head beyond, </span>
  <em>
    <span>why am I up? </span>
  </em>
  <span>And he thinks it’s a fair one. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hanamaki tries to avoid waking up before ten on productive days, and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have anything to do today. So, technically, twelve at the earliest. He was up late and doesn’t really care for being up at seven on a Friday.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You threw your phone across the room last night, it’s on the table,” The voice doesn’t startle him, it never does anymore. After moving in with Issei, falling into a routine was second nature. “I think. Change your ringtone, it's </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrible.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He hisses, and all Hanamaki offers him is a hum of acknowledgement, because, yeah, that’s the point.  Issei slows as Hanamaki makes his way over to him, and the two are at a stand still as Issei takes the time to blink the rest of the colours out of his vision enough to process. Lamely, and with a scratchy voice, he adds, “you’re horrible. Why are we up?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hanamaki considers adding another insult when he takes in how Issei is dressed. The words the taller man starts to ramble fade into nothing when it really hits him, irritation and appreciation vying for his attention. The white dress shirt is open, buttons haphazardly so there’s more than a peek of tanned chest; the sleeves already rolled up to his forearms ; his hair is still wet, the shirt spared only by the towel around his neck and there’s a tie between his teeth. How is he talking? Whatever. He lets his gaze drop without shame, down to where the slacks sit low on his hips, slipping as Issei shifts and he barely manages to choke down a noise. Hanamaki forgets that despite how lazy the other is, he still goes to the gym. He’s still well-built. The cut of his V-line is nearly enough to distract him from the way the slacks are open, his eyes getting caught on the black briefs sitting snugly against his best friend. It looks very nice, fitting and attractive and something in his monkey brain is trying to communicate that </span>
  <em>
    <span>hey, you’re staring at his dick!</span>
  </em>
  <span> But Hanamaki only snaps back to attention when Issei shakes his head, water spraying from his still-wet locks and all over Hanamaki. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck dude?!”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you hear a thing I said?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He glances away. Issei shifts, a sing-song, “I thought so,” leaving him as he takes a step away, and subsequently moves away from Hanmaki, who makes a distressed noise like the child he might be. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>However, to Hanamaki’s delight, he’s only headed toward their kitchen. So, they’re either going to have food - if Issei didn’t decide to be a dick and eat without him - or he plans to make them, at the very least, a cup of coffee. Issei doesn’t even say a thing as he trails behind him, a loud yawn escaping him. He offers a smile with each step he takes. Sigh. This man is almost perfect.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Pay attention, pinky,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost. </span>
  </em>
  <span>What decent human being flicks another in the forehead? The cruelty. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What is he supposed to be paying attention to?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even as the other turns his back to him, Hanamkai still pulls an affronted look, holding a hand up to his chest in offense. Issei doesn’t see it, but he still says, “The dye is getting to your head. We have a wedding to attend at one o’clock, remember? My sister. You’re my date.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t remember this,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We got stoned right after.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hanamaki nods. “That makes sense. What time do we need to be there?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As Issei starts to relay the details that Hanamaki had either completely erased from memory or genuinely forgotten, he let his focus drift to the hands stirring two (thank heaven) cups of coffee, one encompassing the entire spoon as he knocks it gently against the rim of the mug. His other hand is on his phone, scrolling through what is clearly today's itinerary and his voice is deep and soothing, deceptive as he drones on about their schedule. He groans a little bit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not that he minds the wedding. Truly, he adores Issei’s sister, she’s never done anything to harm him, and she’s probably one of the most long lasting victims of his and Issei’s relationship. He’s pretty sure the main reason he didn’t get an individual invite was because Akasuki expected him to come with her brother. Which is correct. He will not be rejecting any reason to see her brother in a suit. Especially if it’s like this. Hanamaki is kind of hoping his dark-haired friend isn’t planning on fixing his appearance for a while.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For his own sake. Having a suit on for long periods of time can be suffocating. Y’know?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to be okay?” Hanamaki blinks out of his haze, taking the cup and plate offered to him. He rummages through his head for whatever Issei could possibly be asking about. There’s the smallest crease of concern in his otherwise blank face, and if he weren’t still gathering himself and stuffing his less annoying thoughts in a jar, he would make fun of him for it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he softens significantly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This is why he doesn’t wake up before ten.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He smiles, shrugging as he shoves a forkful of eggs he didn’t notice Issei had finished in his mouth, barely swallowing before he speaks. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be by your family, right? There’s no problem,” he eyes Issei for a moment, “Bet you’ll look hotter than the other groomsmen.” Hanamaki adds sagely, sipping his too-sweet coffee.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man raises a thick, questioning eyebrow. Those shouldn’t be attractive. He’s pretty sure he called them caterpillars back in his first year. “The groom?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your sister would be insulted.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Issei shrugs. Silence falls over them like a familiar friend, and Hanamaki finds himself finishing his food faster without his phone to distract him and satisfaction with how nice and surprisingly filling it is. He tilts his head, shamelessly eyeing Issei again. There’s nothing better to do. The latter doesn’t seem to mind, eyes drifting to Hanamaki for an amused moment before focusing on his phone again like the dick he is. It’s still nice. It always is, when he thinks about it. Issei making breakfast for him, or leaving reminders, or letting him stare for longer than appropriate. Issei taking care of him on days off. Issei letting him pull ridiculous shit and retaliating with no hesitation. Issei never denying any assumptions about them. Issei letting him sleep in his bigger bed. Issei smiling at him. Issei holding him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Issei, Issei, Issei.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s not sure what they are, but he’s sure they’re in love. Or at least, he is.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hanamaki needs a fucking nap.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Standing abruptly, he barely notices how he shakes the table, blatantly ignoring Issei’s reaction. He downs what remains of his coffee, wincing at his burning tongue and heads to the shower. What better way to clear your head?</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suits </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>suffocating as hell. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s honestly one of the main reasons he refuses to get a job as you know, a salaryman or some shit. If he had to wear a suit all day he’d lose his marbles faster than a child with no coordination. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On top of that, he doesn’t even have it done up properly, much like Issei’s own it’s open at the top for now; there’s no one to impress but Issei’s currently stressed sister, and he can’t help but keep glancing at the three piece the taller man is wearing, apparently at his sisters insistence. It looks good. He’s very happy with Akasuki’s choice. But it also looks like it’s hell to wear. Although you would never know just looking at Matsuakwa’s face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe Issei is just more focused on bullying his sister into relaxing? They’re arguing per usual, except Matsuakwa is winning this argument so something is </span>
  <em>
    <span>clearly </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrong, and Hanamaki is real close to stepping in and defending her honour.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If he tries to leave you at the altar, I’m sure Ryuuichi will tackle him. He’s big enough to take him down now.” Issei gently pats her face. Gently, because she is very beautifully painted and done up, and today is supposed to be a wedding, not a funeral. “And I’m certain dad is still looking for a reason to kill him. So there’s that.” He speaks so factually Hanamaki can see her face fade from distress to something akin to irritation. Not exactly. But close enough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want my husband to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>murdered,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Issei! Who let you in here? You’re starting to get on my nerves.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mom. Said she needed to tinkle and she didn’t want to leave you alone.” Issei makes that noise he always does when he’s contemplating something, like he’s trying to figure out if it’s really worth saying. Hanamaki doesn’t hear it as often anymore; apparently, since they’ve moved in together, unless he’s teasing, he feels no need to filter himself. His sister seems to know this too. He can see her eyeing her brother suspiciously. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You look beautiful, Suki.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Akasuki softens, brightening just a bit as she brings her hands up to cup Issei significantly larger ones. She sniffles, nodding. The words work well enough for her shoulders to relax, her eyes to tear up. Hanamaki feels like he’s invading a private moment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He promptly realizes there are no such things as ‘moments’ with the Matsukawas when she takes his hands and bites it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hanamaki wheezes loudly, breaking his silent streak when Issei screeches, the triumphant noise his sister makes has him keeling over, laughing a lot harder than needed when he sees the lipstick stain on Issei’s hand. The others eyes are wider than he's seen in a while, looking up at his sister absolutely <em>apalled </em>before he brings it to his chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s surreal, watching Issei clutch his hand and curse out the bride-to-be, who looks haughty and happy with her accomplishment. Akasuki’s hands are propped on her hips and everything as she chews out her brother for being ridiculous, saying something about how it’s too late to be threatening her husband. She looks ready to start threatening Issei as if his hand isn’t already red from the sudden violence and Hanamaki can do nothing but watch. As he has for the longest time, enjoying the more private parts of Isseis already previously pretty private life.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Mama Matsukawa comes in, she watches all the ruckus for a few seconds before she starts shouting to get their attention and the two of them are immediately, and understandably, kicked out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They blink, staring at each other and glancing at the closed door beside them before they snort, dissolving into chaotic laughter, loud enough that they were once again told to go away. They quiet down then, moving only a few steps down the hall. Hanamaki is still chuckling as he takes the lipstick-stained hand in his own, turning it to gauge how hard Akasuki bit. Hard, is all he can really say.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s almost as funny how it happened. The bites so damn deep and skewed for someone who was stressing about her appearance two seconds before it. He gives her props. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Carefully, he rubs his thumb over it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to kiss it better?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He represses the shudder in his breath. Hanamaki glances between the hand and it’s owner, eyebrows raised. Much to his annoyance, he can’t tell whether Issei is being serious or not. His face is borderline blank, save for that fucking smirk. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He avoids saying anything, removing a cloth from his pocket to wipe it clean, ridding of the bright red. Hanamaki doesn’t even bother looking up at Issei, squeezing it gently when he shoves the cloth away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He decides to kiss it better too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bringing Isseis hand up to his mouth, he drags his lips where his sister's teeth had previously left indents. It’s soft, warm against him as he leaves little kisses and lingering ones. Hanamaki is tempted to leave his own bite when Isseis flexes fingers. He's always appreciated the look of his hands, Hanamaki is pretty sure he could wax poetic about them. Wants to be allowed to put it in his mouth. But he manages to ignore the sudden (but not new) urge, rather, he slowly turns his hand, a small breath leaving him as he eyes his palm before resuming his previous ministrations, all too pleased with Isseis small shutter of breath.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he litters the skin with kisses, he feels Issei curl long, thick fingers on his cheek, as gentle with Hanamaki as he’s trying to be with him. There’s no more skin to kiss. No excuse to press his mouth to Issei like that. No more room to move with firm fingers holding his jaw still and Hanamaki bites his tongue, letting the man's hand go and trying to keep himself in check as Issei drags it further across his face. Hanamaki can't keep himself from leaning into the touch, eyes fixating on Issei. It feels right, the familarity of it has him sighing. He’s barely keeping eye contact as the hand snakes it way down the nape of his neck, movements slow and steady as ever. He’s reminded of the delicacy Issei uses when rolling a joint, or teaching Hanamaki how to make simple dishes. How goddamn smooth his movements are when he’s working anything, but the careful thoughts are completely crushed when his hair is tugged, fast and hard, pulling a gasp from him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It's jarringly aggressive, how tight Issei's hand is in his hair, the casual look in his eyes, the way he tugs like it's something that belongs to him. If he wasn't in an open space his reaction would <em>not </em>be the same. He knows strictly base off how the hand tightens and loosens at interval, the way Issei's gaze slips to his own wrist before snapping back to his own.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not the first time his hair has been pulled, but it feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>different. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And for a brief moment, his mind blanks, and he blindly reaches for the others shirt, somehow grasping onto it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he blinks out of his daze, something flashes in Isseis eyes, bright and alarming and somehow pleasantly warm, because Hanamaki would think so in any situation, but he doesn’t even have time to take it in. His face is quick to settle into his usual smug smirk, eyes lidded as usual.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Issei smoothes down the hair he messed up, clicking his tongue lightly and bringing his attention back to . . . everything. “Thank you.” He rumbles, fixing his collar and doing up the last of Hanamaki’s buttons. He forgot he hadn't done that. He can feel the flush across his face, his heart beating rapidly as he looks at his friend, wide-eyed and admittedly, slightly horny. “What?” He croaks out, loosening his fist from Issei’s shirt. His mind is a little mangled. All he can really think about is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Issei </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>hands, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>biting. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Thank you for what?” He tries again, voice clear but still a little choked. The look Issei gives is knowing and it does nothing to slow the pace of his heart, whole body buzzing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“For kissing it better.” he laughs lightly, straightening his suit and tie before reaching for Hanamaki’s hands, glancing at the watch on his free hand. “Come on, before they come out. Should go check on the groom.” And although it's no unusual for them to hold hands, he can't help but watch their intertwined fingers. Only after being tugged forward does Hanamaki makes a noise of assent, following his date.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hopes this thing doesn’t take long.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It does. It takes forever. It takes </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and all he can do at the wedding itself is stare at Issei, watch him walk down the aisle with more swagger than should be granted. Smile at his occasional glance. Listen to the priest drone on and do his best not to cry during the vows.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At the reception Issei is pulled back and forth for pictures and music. His sister demands his attention and his mother wants his help and he’s giving speeches and barely able to stop by the family table they were both seated at; not as one of the main hosts. And everyone was curious about Hanamaki, much to his own surprise. So he’s been bombarded with questions and stories, taken by children to dance and amuse the elder women when Issei couldn’t. He’s had enough alcohol to loosen him up, to drown out his initial irritation about the situation, to have him laughing about silly things he hears about the Issei. There’s stories shared that have </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>personally embarrassed for the other, little secrets divulged, more alcohol and somehow Akasuki has coerced him into slow dancing with her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s nice, but it’s loud and hot and Issei’s lost his blazer, and his fucking sleeves are rolled up and he doesn’t get what the point of a three piece is but heavens he’s glad they exist. Hanamaki wishes they’d spent more time together. How much longer do they have to stay before slipping away is acceptable? Where is Issei anyway?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“'Hiro?” Ah. of course he shows up at the right time. Whenever Hanamaki is thinking of him. Like a parasite. A leech? Why does Issei sound so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>nice? “Oh. They made you </span>
  <em>
    <span>drink, </span>
  </em>
  <span>drink. How are we feeling?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hanamaki blinks up at him, opening his mouth before just closing it, grasping at his arms like a lifeline. Quietly, so no one can hear him, as if the loud ass bass reverberating through the floors isn’t already drowning them out, he says, “were they </span>
  <em>
    <span>messing </span>
  </em>
  <span>with me?” because it kinda makes sense. He’s pretty sure this entire family has some sort of evil streak hidden by their good-looks and deceptively helpful demeanors. All the dragging around and narrowly missing each other seems a little too coordinated now that he has Issei in his clutches.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhm. It's a family tradition. That or the complete and utter destruction of your person. Very sexy of us.” Issei nods, hair bouncing, ignoring the fact that Hanamaki has started groping his bicep. “Screening potential life partners is very important.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re very sexy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>grinning. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That motherfucker. He’s hot. And big. His eyes drop down for what he believes is a split second. Processing this entire conversation is a bitch. He’s pretty sure he’s been told something important.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you. Am I your potential life partner?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, in that case, fuck me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna make fun of you so hard when you’re sober.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The complete glee and happiness that fills his him is almost flushed away with the comment, and he hisses, trying to pinch the arm in hand as he glances around. “Where’s your aunt, I’m gonna get her to tell me something embarrassing about you.” He threatens.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Much to his inconvenience, there are hands on his waist, grip tightening slowly and Hanamaki can’t help but think, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes! Nice!, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I swear to fucking God if he doesn’t let go of me I’m gonna pull an Iwaizumi,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and there is not enough room in his head for this. There's not much to throw at Issei anyway. He's sticking to getting high. He kind of wishes he was high. He expresses this to Issei. The hands on his waist become arms wrapped around him and he’s already very warm but this is kind of nice, but he’s pretty sure this is just to shut him up? That is very rude. Nevertheless, he is very comfortable with his entire being pressed against the brunets, hands still grabbing at his arms with renewed interest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mattsun, dude, bro. You’re very attractive,” The man nods, “And I am apparently not sober,” Raised eyebrows, “so unless you want me to pop a boner-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don't need my sister slapping me for anything else tonight, what the fuck,” Hanamaki makes a confused noise, but he’s ignored as Issei gets louder, and he can just barely hear what is said, suddenly tired out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Suki! I’m going home early!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Consent is important!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The weight draped over him is familiar and comforting, but it’s also heavy as </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Hanamaki makes a gurgling noise. What fucking time is it. Why’s his throat parched. It’s so damn warm. This is not his shirt, and he should probably move. So he shifts, not really trying to shift away, but just like, maybe move Isseis (because who else would it be) arm down from crushing his chest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he should start going to the gym.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But as the thought of seeing Issei do well, anything that means sweating and flexing muscle he decides against it. He’s pretty sure you get kicked out for loitering.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, go to fucking sleep.” It’s muffled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hanamaki tuts, lifting Isseis arm again so he can turn and burrow himself closer, throwing a leg over the other rather carelessly. He only opens his mouth when he’s comfortable and settled with the weight back on his waist. He pities people who don’t have such a willing cuddle buddy. “Aren’t you like, all about getting up and eating a healthy meal in the morning? Don’t sound very upstanding in your morals and philosophies, wise guy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s graced with a single eye opening.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Admittedly the rest of his face is buried in the pillow and he’s not sure how he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathing </span>
  </em>
  <span>but whatever. Semantics.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as he opens his mouth again, Issei grunts and turns his whole face back into the pillow before he can say a word. Which, fair, but also, undeniably rude.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t how you treat your potential life partner, Mattsun. Aunt Mai would be very disappointed. You’re acting like Shrek right now, and not in a very sexy way.  Should I start quoting things at you? I’m gonna start quoting things at you. Specifically Donkey quotes. Because he's funny as fuck and you're currently being a little bitch baby."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hand on his waist tightens imperceptibly at first, but slowly, the blunt nails digging into him become very unpleasant and Hanamaki knows the only reason this man hasn’t moved is because there’s a leg thrown over him. It's a very subtle shut up. Likely because Issei expects him to go back to sleep, as asked. However, Hanamaki is tempted to bully him into making breakfast. Or lunch. Brunch. He’s not sure what time it is but he’s hungry and in desperate need of water. Thank the heavens he can still keep himself and his memories intact after drinking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Most of them. Specifically the ones involving the short discussion with Issei and also the dancing with his sister, because he's not sure how she's taller than him and still shorter than Issei.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mattsun,” he practically whines, drawing out the a and pressing his face against his neck. “Feed me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, Hanamaki is aware that Issei doesn’t do very well with exhaustion. And he doesn’t doubt last night was anything but, especially if he ended up taking care of Hanamaki when they got home. This almost trumps Hanamaki's inability to work a stove. It’s okay though. The eyebags are hot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s silence, and Hanamaki thinks maybe he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>going back to sleep, before they’re suddenly rolling, Issei grabbing him as he turns on his back moving without a hitch. The leg previously draped over Isseis leg forces him along for the ride anyway, and all Hanamaki can think about is how thankful he is that this bed is so big. It happens too fast for him to have any other thought, and when they settle, he realizes he doesn’t want to have any other thoughts with his whole weight pressed against his friend like this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t last long. Hanamaki feels uncomfortable with the unorthodox position, and as he shifts around he hears Isseis light grunt and recalls that </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh yeah! They are still two large men! </span>
  </em>
  <span>And he finds himself sitting up instead to ease the weight on top of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to start taping your mouth shut in the morning.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Kinky.” Hanamaki wiggles his eyebrows.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You would say that, you freak.” The haze of sleep diminishes the effectiveness of the glare. Hanamaki tilts his head up a smidge so he’s formally looking down at Issei.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>not the one that went around pulling peoples hair in public.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Isseis grin makes him feel like he lost that one. Or shouldn’t have brought it up at all, because the next thing he knows, there are nice, big warm hands on his bare thighs, dislodging him from his comfortable position and jerking him forward. It’s jarring, and Hanamaki can’t help the yelp that escapes him. There’s a smug look on the other's face as his grip tightens once more. Even so, he can’t find it in himself be angry, not when the movement forces him to find purchase on Isseis chest (nice) and the shirtlessness that allows him premium access to grope his everything, specifically his abs (double nice). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And Issei doesn’t stop him, ever, so. He supposes the squeezing of his thighs in return is only fair. The rasped out “But you liked it,” is not.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He feels himself still ever so slightly, peering up at him through eyelashes and pink bangs. Slowly, carefully, he drags his hands down to his abdomen, a little bit reverent and a little bit teasing, until they settle right above the waistband of his sweats. Issei raises his eyebrows, as if challenging him and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Issei </span>
  </em>
  <span>so of course he’s going to rise to it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Besides, he knows there aren’t any briefs underneath, so once again; easy access. The only reason Hanamaki hasn’t tried this before is misjudgement. Disturbance. Issei waking up at earlier hours because he has things to do. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>now that Isseis initiated things-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The phone rings.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hanamaki suddenly feels like he lost the olympics.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He lets out a drawn out, “duuuuude,” as Issei rummages around the bedside table for his phone, finding it surprisingly fast.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The latter gives him a look of warning as he hits answer, and all Hanamaki can do is mourn his moment, dropping his face down into the crook of Issei's neck to bite and suck at the skin. As an expression of anger. The way Issei tilts his chin up to give him more to work with does not appease him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>or </span>
  </em>
  <span>make his dick twitch, thank you. He’s not that easy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure you don’t want to just do dinner? It might be- Oh, okay, makes sense. Uhhhh we can do two. I’ll drop you off, I’ll drop you off at the uhm, airport after. Yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m good. Thank you. Later. Bye.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There's another silence before he hears the phone </span>
  <em>
    <span>thunk!</span>
  </em>
  <span> against what must be the wall at the same time hands are back on him, as if he isn’t sure what to do with them and he can’t help the breathy chuckle. He bites down harder, revelling in the sharp inhale. The way Issei hums after he licks over the new bruise.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sister?” Hanamaki asks, head turned to mouth at his jaw, a warm hand sneaking up his shirt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The other slides through his hair, merely running through the strands at first. Then he's forcefully tugging him up until he’s face to face with Issei, and God he is so glad he decided to let it grow out, if just for this, the way his hand tightens to keep his attention and choke the whimper straight out of him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His neck is craned at a nearly uncomfortable angle, and he can feel his breath mingling with Isseis. Eyeing him like he’s making a game plan, he can tell Issei's trying to figure out the best way to tear him apart. Shut him up. And Hanamaki will deny the whine he lets out. He is a grown man. A very, very horny grown man.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> like it.” The laughter is nice, and warm, and if it wasn’t at his expense he might enjoy the way it shakes his chest, because this bastard already knew that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In retaliation, Hanamaki rolls his hips, grinding down until Issei groans, loud and deep, filling him with both satisfaction and need. Of course, the sound goes straight to his dick, and it takes all his might to choke back his own noise. He can’t help the way his eyes flutter close, hips still rocking despite the layer of clothes barring him from what he wants. What he </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he realizes desperation is clawing at his skin as he feels their cocks meet again and again, the hand in his hair the only thing restricting him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s wanted this </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and now that he’s had more than a taste, he feels like Issei has been depriving him of something his entire life. Just being able to touch him so much in this way is so much nicer than he thought. Has he sat on his thighs? Of course! Has he been in his lap? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hell yes. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hanamaki has even used Isseis very firm chest as a pillow </span>
  <em>
    <span>multiple times, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but this. Oh God. He may be overdramatic, but the sting in his scalp is wonderful, the pressure on his ass so nice. Having Issei touch him in such a determined and definite way, clearly certain in his experience is just as hot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hand in his hair drops, and he feels the whine climb out his throat as his head does too, landing harshly on exposed collarbones. He doesn’t feel sorry. He can’t. He opens his eyes to watch the way he’s practically dry humping Issei, the way Issei is more than indulging him if the little jerks are anything to go by, he moans, pushing himself up again to find a better angle. The hand in his shirt slides to the side, lightly grazing the skin, and he delights in the sensation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re awfully needy, ‘Hiro.” And there are two hands sliding across his skin, until they glide over his ass, squeezing </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard </span>
  </em>
  <span>whilst Issei lifts them a bit, shifting until they’re sitting up, chests pressed together and a significant lack of space between them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A knee is pressed between his legs as Issei lets him grind down on him, encouraging as he pulls him closer than before. Issei grunts. Hanamaki makes a similar noise, and pulls him forward for a kiss. It’s messy, sloppier than previous kisses they’ve shared and Hanamaki can feel his dick twitch the longer Isseis tongue prods at the inside of his mouth like it’s trying to find its very own place. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hanamaki huffs, panting heavy and quickly losing focus with all the different sensations, including Isseis spit-slick lips mouthing at his jaw, slowly descending towards his neck. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hasn’t even cum yet but he feels wrecked, like it would take nothing to tip him over the edge and maybe it’s from all the waiting and wanting and the way he’s grinding against Isseis side more than his thigh now but </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As if sensing his thoughts, Issei puts a smidge of space between their bodies, one of his hands reaching into his briefs. The guttural noise that escapes him when Issei finally has his dick in hand nearly hurts his throat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wet,” Issei murmurs as he smears the precum over his cock, pumping him with the intent to bring him over the edge. “So </span>
  <em>
    <span>wet.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s a compliment, he knows it is; the reverence in his voice has him shaking as he gets closer and closer to climax, and Hanamaki revels in the way Isseis big ass hands drag up his shaft slow and easy before squeezing just a bit, changing the pace when he pleases. He can’t help but rut into his hand, mouth open in a silent moan.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, wait,” Hanamaki pants out, “wanna, let me cum on your cock, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Issei hums, pressing kisses to his jugular before planting some on his parted mouth, licking into it until Hanamaki can’t help but reciprocate. Only then does he pull back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Later. We got a late lunch, remember?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate you, so much, fucking, I’m revoking your rights.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“M’kay.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bastard,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks, but it’s all he thinks when his lip is bitten on particularly hard, and a finger digs into his slit. He’s coming after a few more strokes, spilling over his hand and their stomachs, moans swallowed by Isseis willing mouth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He flops over when he catches his breath, eyes closing. He can hear Issei pattering around but doesn’t bother sitting back up. They have a meeting with his sister- and most likely her new husband too. He’s reserving his energy. That is all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It's the slap of a warm wet cloth on his stomach that has him reeling, and he jolts to the side when he glance s up and meets Isseis pleased gaze. Bastard. “What the fuck? You know I’m taking a shower right? What was that for. What is </span>
  <em>
    <span>this for,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s hissing like a cat now, and Issei has the gall to laugh at him. He rolls, sitting up on his knees whilst the other clown amuses himself, twisting the cloth in hand but that’s… not where his focus sits.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Naturally, he's still shirtless. A personal request from Hanamaki last Christmas but also just a clear boast of his shoulders. He can't help trace his shape, eyes raking over the arms and the v-cut line and <em>oh. </em>That makes sense. His sweatpants are still slung slow on his frame, like the heathen he is, and Hanamaki regrets not having a faster recovery period.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The very obvious bulge has him groaning, face planting back into the sheets.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, are you still hard?” Issei's silence is annoyingly loud. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“'Course. Looked pretty on top of me.” He says, grin sly as he tosses the cloth back on the bed. "Besides, pretty sure you said you wanted to cum on my-"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hanamaki makes a loud, embarrassed noise because, yes, he does, but <em>fuck </em>he doesn't have to say it when he looks like that. His dick is already making a valiant effort to fix this problem.  When Issei laughs, he huffs his insult, standing from the bed, kicking off his soiled briefs. The shirt drops just low enough to cover him, so he doesn't feel weird when he steps right against Issei, pulling at the waistband to peer into his pants with a happy sigh. Nice. Dicks can't possibly look nice, can they? Appealing. Whatever. He still wants Issei's cock in him at the quickest and most convenient time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Issei flicks him on the forehead again. "What're you lookin' at it for, pervert."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Lets go shower." He says, bypassing Issei's words as his eyes flicker to meet darker ones, and he doesn't hesitate grabbing his wrist, quick to drag him towards the bathroom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He ignores the curious noise, and the following, "multitasking, nice," stripping the minute he steps past the threshold, turning only to start the water, letting it warm up whilst he drags Issei's pants down without shame, standing back up to take in the sight before him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Issei, smug bastard, stands with his hip cocked to the side, hands clasped behind his head like he's waiting for Hanamaki to finish doing whatever he's doing. It irritated him, but it's easily tamped down when he can appreciate Issei as a whole, eyes dropping to stare openly at the not-so-little Issei, standing just as proud as the man himself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He's <em>definitely </em>not going to regret this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For safety reasons only, he's careful and gentle pushing Issei under the stream, following closely until the water falls over both of them. He breaths out a satisified hum, sliding his hands into Issei's hair, he pulls him into a soft kiss. Hanamaki lets Issei pull him close, press them together until it's a bit too wet and slippery to kiss him properly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hanamaki plants a few more kisses on his face, pulling himself out of Issei's hold to blink up at innocently at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then he drops down to his knees.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>again, SO sorry.</p>
<p>i just want you to know that akasuki and ryuuichi are his siblings and they love issei, but they're all like, real sus.<br/>you can like,,, talk to me abt them on twitter? at ... at @ph0ques . bc consistency .</p></blockquote></div></div>
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